


Below My Feet

by tobecomeahero



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Coping with traumatic experiences, Wounds, after altissia, blind stuff, it might not even be that graphic, its just graphic wound stuff, it’s not really graphic violence, man i wish I could come up with creative tags, probably some form of ptsd, stubborn Ignis is stubborn, this might turn gay but don’t count on it, this probably won’t make you feel happy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 03:14:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12547576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobecomeahero/pseuds/tobecomeahero
Summary: Immediately after the events of Altissia, Ignis is already tasked with the challenge of a lifetime.





	1. Chapter 1

Always has Ignis been a quick learner. 

 

Being quick in mind and action was apart of his job, his life. In his youth, it was simply how he had been primed for his job as the chamberlain to the Crown Prince. 

 

Always analize the impending situation and predict- or rather, know- where it would lead. Always be ahead of the flow of the conversation, paperwork, or enemy. Always be flawless in action and articulation, as the Crown Prince learns from it. Fully understand a new realm of governmental studies overnight to relay to said Prince in the morning; have it be muscle memory on how to take down an attacker from an arm’s length away; learn this, learn that, and be perfect. So, naturally, the young advisor did everything and more for his duty to his land and liege. 

 

However, this task at hand proved to Ignis he met his match. 

 

The steam that came off the shower water permeated the hot air within the bathroom. Nearly nude, Ignis leaned against the sink counter where he could feel his sloppily folded clothes brush against the elastic of his briefs and flesh of his waist. His fingers trailed around his body in attempt to analyze his own well-being. Certainly, he had more than just a few cuts and bruises. He could barely touch the skin that had caved into his muscle for how much it hurt; that skin felt like sandpaper from the immense amount of clots that held the flesh together. That once perfect flesh, he could remember crystal clear, had been burned. 

 

It reeked of Izunia. 

 

After mapping out the large variety of cuts and wounds, Ignis shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet. He slowly bent his knees and removed his undergarments, folded them, and placed them on top of his clothes on the counter. Despite the dizzying throb in his skull, he began to move to the sound of the shower- his arm extended before him, fingers slowly groping for anything in front of him. Finally, they came in contact with something hard, and unevenly bumpy. Ignis was familiar with the wall. He remembered it had been a gently textured dandelion color.

 

Again, this time reaching more to the left, his fingers discovered the shower curtain. He opened the curtain towards the side, careful to keep the inside curtain within the bathtub, and slowly lifted his leg to place inside the ceramic cast. The water that splashed onto his skin was warm, and not too hot. Truly, it was the perfect temperature. Ignis could feel his aching muscles cry for the comfort of heat. Slowly, he reached for the other side of the bathtub- a rather ornate tub that could be seen commonly in old fashioned movies- and hooked his fingers around the thick lip. He pulled his other leg and the rest of his body, careful to not slip, then fixed the curtain. 

 

As he stood, it felt like his body was being pelted with magma. The unification of the Tidemother and the Pyreburner rained from the faucet, causing Ignis to quickly shy away from the liquid, pressing his body against the curtain nearest the wall. He raised his hand to meet the assault, and the water had once again cooled. With a twitch of his eyebrow, Ignis attempted to concoct an explanation to the heat- surely, it was his injuries, not the heat of the water itself. Sighing, Ignis turned his body, so his right side, void of burn wounds, could be in the water. 

 

Ignis held still in the water for a few moments. He could barely hear his own breathing with the constant sound of the shower. He could hear muffled communication from beyond he shower door. That meant Prompto and Gladiolus has finally woken up. Surely, they were discussing Noctis, his recovery, and their plan. Here and there Ignis thought he could hear his name. Yet, he tried to ignore it. Right now, he didn’t want to be bothered with any life tasks, as selfish as he thought that was. 

 

Slowly, Ignis reached down in search of the soap bar. His hands followed the bottom of the bathtub to no avail. He moved up to touch the curtain that surrounded the bathtub, and his thin eyebrows minutely twitched into a frown once more, but his fingers finally found something- the faucet pipe. They traced up and down the pipe, careful to not move the handle that controlled the water temperature. With nearly a sigh of relief, Ignis found a little basket that contained toiletries. He discovered two identical bottles, the shampoo and conditioner, none of which he could discern from one or the other. Thankfully, he found the soap box, opened it, and moved back to the water with care. 

 

He rubbed the soap in his calloused hands. A gentle foam caressed his skin and filled the air with an aroma of sylleblossom, or some flower akin to, with a hint of honey. The advisor bit his lips together in a thin line for a moment as his memory replayed; the news of Lady Lunafreya was still difficult to fully comprehend, even with the passing of a few days. Ignis gently scrubbed the foam over his skin, careful to not damage the healing flesh. 

 

How easy it was for Ignis’s mind to wander through his emotions and memory. Without visual stimulus, he could focus on many new emotions- however, the new emotions all sat beneath the broad spectrum of dysphoria. 

 

No longer can he analyze situations, nor can he fight. Hell, he could barely walk without someone by his side. Of what use to the King of Lucis would a blind advisor be? 

 

Curse the accursed. That wretched fiend knew precisely how to gouge Ignis of his confidence, of what he needed most to perform his duty. Now, he has been left in the dark- the literality of the pun caused Ignis cringe- and unable to perform the most simple of tasks he took for granted less than a week ago.

 

And learning how to function was more difficult than he thought. 

 

His cane was a burden; Ignis has nearly tripped Prompto, and he appears persistent to continue poking the heels Gladiolus’s shoes; to keep count, this has happened five times within the past twenty four hours. Occasionally his cane would catch on uneven ground and it would roughly jab Ignis’s already bruised sternum. The doctors told him it would take time to be able to utilize the cane to it’s full extent, but Ignis had expected to master its use within the two days he’s been awake and mobile. Always had Ignis been able to master equipment at an exponentially fast rate. 

 

Sudden noises frightened him, striking fear into his heart. Anxiety always sat on his shoulder, ready to cause his heart to race, make his stomach to knot, or numb his legs, always leaving him on edge. 

 

All of this was difficult not only for himself, and he knew it wasn’t easy for his friends, too. Who knows how this will effect Noctis, whenever he wakes up.

 

Minutes disappeared, like sand in the wind. Ignis came back to reality. He rinsed his body and returned the soap to the holder. Tilting his head back into the shower, water soaked his untamed hair. As the water came in contact with the scalp on the back side of his head, his headache lessened, but the stitched laceration stung. The water dripped down his forehead in small rivers and flooded the valleys of his wounds, raining over his eyelids. In truth, the water still hurt. However, it didn’t hurt his scarred face nearly as much as it did the rest of his body. He assumed someone used a different salve on his eye, perhaps to aid in healing the impending scar. 

 

In a matter of seconds, the water felt freezing cold- or was it scalding hot? The contrast was so sudden, Ignis’s body was unable to register the temperature- and dear anxiety grabbed Ignis’s heart and squeezed it, sending it into a panic. The water electrified Ignis’s wounds and sent him retreating back out of the water with his entire being atremble. He didn’t hear himself scream from his pain, nor could he hear anything at all over how loud his heart beat inside his ears. He couldn’t hear his breathing, but he could feel his chest heaving, and how awful his throat stung. His hands clamped on both sides of his head and he buckled down to his knees, trying to convince himself that he was perfectly safe, and no harm could come from taking a simple shower. 

 

The next thing Ignis heard was a loud bang, accompanied by the sensation of sharp vibrations through the bathtub. Instinctively he looked up. 

 

“Iggy?” 

 

Gladio’s voice was full of startled concern. Ignis could tell. Surely, the advisor had made enough noise to send the other into panic, as well. 

 

“Ignis, are you okay?” Gladiolus persisted. His voice was followed by the sound of metal rubbing against metal- no, the curtains- and Ignis suddenly reached forward to grab the curtain, wanting to keep it closed. 

 

There was silence between the two for a moment. Ignis’s hearing slowly returned. He could finally hear as if he weren’t stuck in the end of an echoing tunnel. In attempt to counteract his heart rate and breath, he sucked in a slow, shaking, deep breath.

 

“I- I’m fine,” Ignis said with haste, pulling the curtain closed more. He could tell Gladio’s hand was already pulling the curtain open higher up, as the fabric he held was stuck at an angle. 

 

“The water’s too damn hot,” mumbled the Shield as he reached inside the curtain to adjust the faucet temperature. The knobs squealed with a high pitch. The water pooling by Ignis’s feet no longer felt indescribable. “And stop bullshitting me. You don’t look ‘fine’ to me.” 

 

“Gladiolus. Please,” Ignis replied as firmly as he could possibly sound and hugged his knees to his chest with an arm. He was desperate to hide whatever vulnerabilities ailed him. He wanted to show, or prove, that he had everything under control, and that he was not going through an existential crisis while his body felt like a train wreck (though a train wreck wouldn’t be too far off from what really happened). 

 

“Why’d you scream then, huh?” Gladiolus interrogated. His knees popped as he kneeled by the tub. “Are you hurt?” Now, the trembling Ignis could tell, Gladio was nearly face to face with him.

 

Ignis’s rationale had to remind him that this was Gladiolus- just Gladiolus. The big, muscular Shield he has known for years upon years. He was far from a stranger; he was more than a friend. After a rocky start, Gladiolus had always been there for Ignis. The man had the appearance of a fierce gladiator, with the demeanor of a gentle flower. He was no one of whom Ignis should feel anxious about. Yet, his body still shook, his mind continued to race. 

 

Doubt. Certainly, Gladiolus would see through his guise and know- Ignis is not cut out for his duty anymore.

 

“Iggy. Where’d you go?” Gladiolus asked in a much gentler tone. He dared to reach out and touch Ignis’s wrist. 

 

The visionless man blinked his eye and looked up. He was almost disappointed when he didn’t see Gladio before him. Part of him wishes that all of this is a dream, that he’s actually in a coma, and that he will wake up with his vision restored. 

 

“I.. nowhere. Please, Gladiolus, I’m fine. The water scalded me,” he finally managed to say. He didn’t know how convincing he would be, even though half of his statement was truthful. “I would like to finish up in here so I may prepare for the day.”

 

Gladiolus sighed gently. Ignis wished he could read the other. The sigh wasn’t confirmation enough about whether or not Gladio believed him. Ignis was so accustomed to knowing, immediately, what just about anyone could be thinking, his friends especially. Noctis, Prompto and Gladio were open books to Ignis, who could always detect the smallest differences in their body language. Prompto’s left cheek would barely twitch if he felt annoyed. Gladio had a nasty habit of not knowing what to do with his hands if he were either bored or anxious. And the Prince, if he were sad, his lips would be just barely parted. 

 

“Gotcha,” Gladiolus’s baritone voice sounded, pants shuffling as he stood. “Sorry to disturb you.” He added as his heavy footsteps clicked on the tiled floor. The door closed gently behind him. Prompto immediately began talking again, but his tone was soft and almost inaudiable as he inquired about Ignis.

 

Ignis remained curled in his ball for a while. An embarrassed haze set over his emotions. It wasn’t that he had been bothered by Gladiolus seeing him nude- though, with the way he was curled, Gladio wouldn’t have seen much, anyways. That embarrassment had came and passed when Gladiolus forced his help upon him with a sponge bath two days ago, back when he had the gauze first removed from his wounds, when he was physically unable to stand and perform for himself. His embarrassment stemmed from the way he had been presented to the Shield. 

 

Reduced to a cowering fool by water. In the past, he had endured: stings from giant wasps, gunshot wounds by magitek troopers, a wide variety of defects that drained his life, and so much more. Hell, he survived everything he could recollect of the chaos that unfolded during the Hydrean’s covenant. Never had he been weakened by water. 

 

Pathetic.

 

Shaking his head, Ignis stood, holding the rim of the bathtub. His blood rushed from his head, threatening to collapse his body once more. Taking a deep breath, Ignis forced himself up. Without any desire to go beneath the water again, he turned the squealing knobs, and the roar of the shower died to a few drips. He reached for the towel he swung over the curtain rail and pulled it down, draping it gently over his body. He patted his skin to dry himself, careful to not disturb his scab infested, burn littered skin. 

 

Proceeding with caution out of the bath, Ignis’s feet padded softly against the rough towel that had been lain over the tile. With his drying towel, he rubbed his hair in attempt to dry it, cautious of his wound. He wrapped the cloth around his waist and reached forward to the counter before him, taking a few steps towards it. He leaned his hip against the counter and took his shirt, undoing the buttons down its worn center. Ignis couldn’t help himself as he turned his head, to the burn that covered most of his left shoulder, and smelled himself.

 

Despite his best efforts to clean the wound, he still picked up on the aroma of Izunia.


	2. Chapter 2

The Prince slumbered fitfully. Now and then, his eyebrows would furrow. He tossed and turned frequently. Perhaps some inner turmoil kept him from fully healing and waking up. 

 

Ignis stayed beside Noctis as often as he could. Occasionally Prompto or Gladiolus would join him and chat, or bring food. The time alone secluded him to his thoughts, which both had its pros and cons. Amongst the pros would be that Noct made little noise, other than a soft groan here and there, and he didn’t have to exert energy to entertain anyone. As for the cons, there was plenty of time to contemplate how he would tell Noctis of the Oracle’s demise, which pained him greatly, and reflect on the uselessness he has become. 

 

The balcony doors had been opened wide. A cross-breeze brought fresh, salty air through the room. Between Noctis’s bed and the balcony, Ignis stood in the sunlight. He could feel its blessing grace his cheeks, and, if he tried hard enough, he managed to see the faintest glimmer of white light. Ignis didn’t dare remove his protective sunglasses to try to see more of the light- the last thing he wanted was to skew any chances of regaining his sight. The sensation of the light must do for now. 

 

Despite the doctor’s predictions, Ignis was well aware of the improbability of his sight to return in his eye. The advisor knew anatomy well enough to know he damaged the visual cortex of his brain. He could have all of the potions and elixirs in the entirety of Eos, and it still wouldn’t reverse the brain damage. Not all the way, at least. His sight had the slightest chance of regressing to being considered low vision. He knew then that glasses could possibly doctor his vision to some clarity, but otherwise, he would be able to detect motion and shapes. 

 

Simply put, Ignis wanted to hold onto whatever hope he could. If he could regain the slightest bit of sight, he would be cabable of performing some of his services to Noctis.

 

Ignis could hear someone in the hallway. A voice, a taunt. It was a sound he wished he could forget. The sound of it chilled him to the bone, nauseated his being, and sent adrenaline pumping through his veins. Undoubtedly, Ignis had been cursed. Everywhere he went, he could hear Izunia’s voice. Far away, or right behind him, it was always there. He could hear it mocking him. It was in the hallway. Ignis’s heart raced as he drew a hand up to his chest. He materialized his dagger in his fist. The voice was coming closer and closer. It was growing louder and louder. Small pants now took over the blind man’s breath. 

 

A laid back knock sounded off the door across the suite. The mock vanished. A click of the room key was quick to follow. “Hey, I brought lunch,” Gladiolus said as he entered the room. The man had held back on most of his actions in order to not startle Ignis, a gesture in which Ignis was both grateful and despiseful of. “And your medication, too.” 

 

Ignis looked over from the space he stared through outside. He released his dagger and took a deep breath, trying to relieve the tension in his shoulders. Adjusting his cane in his hand once more, he brushed it over the carpeted ground- left, right- with the cadence of his slow walk. His extension barely grazed the foot of Noctis’s bed; Ignis was somewhat proud of himself for knowing the space he’s in. Joining Gladio in the seating area of the suite, he heard the other jostle the squeaking styrofoam to-go boxes. They clicked open and close on the table, then they were accompanied by the clatter of plastic utensils. 

 

“I managed to find somewhere that was actually open,” the Shield murmured as he continued to check their food. “Surprisingly, they served Lucian. And, I thought we could all use some food we’re familiar with, so I got you that breaded cutlet dish I know you love.” A chair shifted near Ignis. “Here, take a seat.” The cushion of an opposing chair deflated as Gladio’s weight crushed it. “And, I, uh.. hope you don’t mind if we do your medication first.”

 

Ignis nodded and sat in the seat aside him, crossing his legs, resting his cane between his thigh and the armrest. With Gladio beside him, he was able to relax. “Will Prompto be joining us?” He inquired. Ignis didn’t realize how quiet his voice had become with the lack of use in the past days. Aware of his volume, he cleared his throat. 

 

“I told him to wait outside. You know how squeamish he is with blood, n’ stuff,” Gladio said with a sigh. He clicked a bottle of hand sanitizer and rubbed his hands together, massaging the antiseptic into his skin. A few metal boxes shifted on the table. They opened, closed, slid. Packages were ripped open and crumbled, then thrown into a paper bag. Ignis’s ears followed all of the movements of the Shield’s hands. 

 

The bespectacled male took his spectacles off with a slight grimace. Accidentally, the end of the eyewear rubbed against his wound. He sighed softly and folded the glasses. A week ago, he would be habitually cleaning the lenses after taking them off his face. “I’m grateful for your help, Gladio, but I’m capable of cleaning my own wound. I know it must spoil your appetite to see..whatever it is that’s become of me.” Ignis cast his gaze down to his lap with his opened eye, appearing like the sliver of a waxing moon. 

 

“Become of you?” Gladiolus questioned. Surely his head was cocked and his eyebrow was raised the way he does when he tries to figure something out. There was a chance of his arms being crossed, too. “First off, to get things straight, nothing’s ‘become of you.’ It’s a wound, like any other wound.” Ignis could practically feel Gladio shaking his head. “Second, I seriously don’t mind helping you. At all. Third, it would be difficult for you to do this by yourself.” He finished as he fixed together all of the salves and medications, just as how the doctor wrote it out. “I’m sticking something in your damned eye, for Shiva’s sake. I don’t think anyone would be able to do that by themselves.” 

 

One of the perks of having imperfect vision for one’s entire life is the benefit of wearing corrective contacts. Ignis would argue about his experience, but he simply didn’t have the energy to fight. Yet, he knew this wasn’t like putting a contact on an eye. With a gentle exhale, he knodded. “Very well.” Ignis agreed and moved to the edge of his chair, closing some space between Gladio and himself. 

 

“Alright. I’m going to touch your face, now,” Gladiolus warned after he scooted his chair closer. His knees pressed against both sides of Ignis’s legs. Ignis closed his eye; the eyelid twitched as the orb darted back and forth beneath it, and he braced himself for the contact. “Right here,” Gladio murmured as his warm hand cupped Ignis’s right cheek. 

 

Gladio’s fingers traced up Ignis’s temple and onto his forehead, then down his nose. His thumb moved gently over the slit in the nose and down beneath the scarred cheekbone as his forefinger moved a few inches above his eyebrow. The entirety of Gladio’s hand covered Ignis’s face, but he didn’t mind. The smell of the hand sanitizer was almost comforting, in the strangest of ways. At the least, hand sanitizer had yet to be and won’t be associated with a bad memory, so long as Gladio doesn’t screw up horribly.

 

The smallest chuckle echoed within Ignis’s conscience. Gladio knows what he’s doing, and he would never intentionally harm Ignis. The advisor’s mind must surely be overreacting.

 

“Okay,” Gladiolus mumbled as he picked something up off the table. “I’m going to touch the wound now,” He said, slow voice low and methodical, as his finger and thumb gently closed in over the inflamed flesh. Ignis sucked in a sharp breath that barely whistled against Gladio’s palm. “And I’m.. opening your eye.” Gladio’s fingers continued up to the caved eyelids and pried them apart. 

 

Ignis frowned a little in discomfort. The air that circulated his empty eye socket chewed on the optic nerve. Was it the ocean air that caused it to sting? It hadn’t felt that way with the doctor. He bit his lips into a fine line, balling his fists on his lap. This is okay. He’s endured- No. He’s never endured worse than his eye being ripped out. 

 

A sensation of pressure softly dabbed the inside of the socket. Ignis fought all urges to pull away. He forced himself to take a deep breath to calm himself and his instincts. “What does it look like?” He dared to ask. He has a right to know, right? Correct. It is his injury, after all.. 

 

“White,” Gladio replied vaguely. His second hand returned to the table, dropping the disposable equipment into the paper bag. Promptly, his hand moved back with another cotton wand, Ignis predicted the equipment, to continue cleaning. 

 

“Infection.” Stated Ignis.

 

“No.” The other quickly retorted. “Er- yes, but no. The doctor said it’s apart of healing to see this. That’s why I’m cleaning it out.” The paper bag ruffled again. “How do you feel?” 

 

“I feel my headache coming back,” the advisor fought another impulse to blink. “But I’ll manage.” His gloved fingers kneaded against the palms of his hands. 

 

“I have the painkillers,” Said the Shield, sounding a million miles away in his focus. 

 

Ignis hummed softly in acknowlegement. He knew he would need another dose after lunch, for sure. 

 

There was silence between the two. The occasional breeze would cause Ignis to grunt and barely flinch. A few gulls crowed outside. The paper bag ruffled here and there. It wasn’t too long until Gladiolus closed the eyelid, removing his hand from Ignis’s face. 

 

“Are we done?” Ignis asked. He could feel his stomach gnawing for sustenance. He remembered he didn’t eat breakfast a couple hours ago. 

 

“The topical and eye drops are next,” Gladiolus confirmed the coming actions. “I’m touching your face again.” He said just as his fingers- or knuckles- they were knuckles, rough, large- touched his lower left cheek. His fingers were busy digging the said topical out of a canister. After a moment, the knuckles flipped over and the cold salve touched the scarring skin. The cold drew a gasp into Ignis’s lungs, jolting his body in a flinch. “Sorry.” Gladiolus murmured softly as he began to work as gently as possible to rub the salve into the skin in small circles. 

 

The motion was jarring, despite Gladio’s attempts at being gentle. Ignis flinched more and more, taking another deep breath. Soon enough it would be over. He had to force himself through. “I’m certain I could do this one on my own,” Ignis didn’t think before he whispered his train of thought. 

 

“Just let me take care of you, okay?” Gladiolus groaned, moving his fingers swiftly over the miscolored flesh. When he finished spreading the salve over largest scar on Ignis’s face, he brushed his finger over the cut on Ignis’s nose, then the disconnection on his right eyebrow, then down the cut on his lip. That was kinda gay, Gladio.

 

Ignis made no comment to that. He heard Gladiolus stand, and looked up as if he were trying to keep eye contact. “Eyedrops?” He asked. His somber tone nearly conveyed excitement- he was ready to be done with this, eat, and take his medication. 

 

Gladio grunted in affirmation. A bottle cracked open in his hand. Ignis opened his eye, tilting his head back more. His uncanny resemblance of a chocobo chick to its mother twitched Ignis’s lips into a ghost of a smirk- there and gone in fractions of a second. Gladio took hold of the side of Ignis’s face to still him, then squeezed the bottle above his eye. Three fat drops dripped into his eye. Ignis blinked and rolled his eye, spreading the liquid about. 

 

“That feels awful,” He commented, blinking a few more times, looking down again. The solution was much thicker than any he used before. “Oh well.” Ignis unfolded his glasses and slid them onto his face, careful to not touch his wound the way he did the first time.

 

A small knock came on the door. “Hey, are you guys done yet?” Prompto asked as the door cracked open. 

 

“Yeah, come on in,” Gladiolus responded. He put together the trash he accumulated, then went to the bathroom to clean his hands. 

 

The blonde’s bounce in his usual step wasn’t detectable with Gladio’s heavy movements. Ignis didn’t hear Prompto until he sat on the couch near the table. The noise startled him.

 

Lunch went quickly. Ignis wasn’t nearly as hungry as he thought- a few bites filled him. He continued to pick at his food for the rest of the time, listening to Gladio and Prompto talk, but eventually, he zoned out. Occasionally he would hear Noctis roll over. However, he felt far away from the hotel, from Altissia. He didn’t want to be in the present anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I didn’t expect to have this written so fast. I hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> Can you tell I wanted to make this chapter gAY 
> 
> too bad it didn’t turn out that way but i’ll eventually do some thing gay to make up for angst

**Author's Note:**

> hi guys! man, it’s been a while since I’ve written fanfiction. I’ve got a poor tendency to start something and never finish it, so this may not have more than three or four chapters. Or maybe two. Idk. I have something in mind for the next chapter.. muahaha..
> 
> Thanks for reading!! I hope you enjoyed.


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